It seemed the world was divided into good and bad people. The good ones slept better while the bad ones seemed to enjoy the waking hours much more.

I'd call him a sadistic, hippophilic necrophile, but that would be beating a dead horse.

How can I believe in God when just last week I got my tongue caught in the roller of an electric typewriter?

What if nothing exists and we're all in somebody's dream? Or what's worse, what if only that fat guy in the third row exists?

Me and nature are two.

Human beings are divided into mind and body. The mind embraces all the nobler aspirations, like poetry and philosophy, but the body has all the fun.

Oh, he was probably a member of the National Rifle Association. It was a group that helped criminals get guns so they could shoot citizens. It was a public service.